


Right?

by BannedBookReader



Category: Nightwing (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Cutting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Self-Harm, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4820561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BannedBookReader/pseuds/BannedBookReader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of "Failsafe" Dick begins to feel overwhelmed and needs a release, a few years later he ends up in the hospital and may not make it. (for updates and author notes check my Tumblr @ bannedbookreader.tumblr.com)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

CHAP ONE  
He'd led his friends to their deaths, even if it was just an illusion in a training simulation. He went in knowing that no one would get out, but he did what he had to do. He couldn't think of any other options, and he tried, God did he try, but he wasn't Batman. He did his best to think of everything, but so many people Dick loved were dead. Maybe somewhere deep down he knew that if he didn't go along with the plan he would lose everyone else. Maybe his plan had been just a selfish act to spare himself and his team from more pain. Besides, how can sacrificing your friends not break “rule number one”?   
No. They volunteered. But he had lied to get them to…  
The thoughts built up in his head and before long there were too many of them; fighting for dominance, all swearing they were the truth. Filling his head to the point of tears and closing his throat and he could taste blood seeping into his mouth from where his teeth bit into his lip. The pressure was too much and he needed a release.  
He decided to think about something simpler, like the pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket. They weren't his, of course, but that didn't mean he’d never smoked before; once when he was seven and curious, and Mr. Hailey had set his down to deal with something. Dick then mimicked what he had seen countless people do a hundred times and regretted it immediately. He burst into tears and nearly caught a tent on fire when he dropped the cigarette. Then he smoked again, just a few months ago, to try and get Roy's attention.   
Roy had been avoiding all of them for the most part since the team was formed. He was still mad that he was the only one who walked out of the Hall of Justice on the 4th of July. Dick had tried to hang out several times since then but he kept being blown off. It was certainly a new experience and not one he actually knew how to deal with. Which was strange because he always assumed he could deal with anything and everything. It stung like Hell but Roy just wasn't cooperating, so Dick decided to scare Roy into paying attention. He bought a pack from some kids behind the school and suffered through one full cigarette, but Roy hadn't seemed to notice. Dick figured he must not smell enough like tobacco to notice, and he sat through the entire pack to no avail. Bruce on the other hand had noticed, and Dick clamored to give a shoddy explanation about being in a room full of smoke. It worked (somehow), but Dick decided to up his cologne none the less.  
Once he made it through the pack though, his fake addiction became a real one. Maybe deep down he knew it would happen, but he was just trying to get his friend back, and he convinced himself it was worth it. Well it was too late now even if it wasn't. He liked to think could quit if he wanted to, but then again if that were the case, he wouldn't be reaching into his shirt pocket for Chey's pack.   
Is it theft if you bought them, and it's already illegal to own them? He couldn’t help but wonder. Probably not, giving a slight unconscious shrug and placed the cigarette between his teeth.  
"You taking my cigs, boy wonder?"  
Cheyenne's sweet, yet hard voice bounced off the Pines that surrounded them. Cheyenne Freemont had almost all the students at school lusting after her. Her blood red hair, nothing like Barbra's or Wally's whose hair was closer to orange, framed her slim face in a bob-like cut. The left side of her hair was slightly longer than the right, with a blue streak running down it. The blue in her hair, oddly enough, brought out the opaque green in her eyes. Her lips were full and often covered in red, or pink lipstick. She was tall with most of her height extending from her legs, for most though the deal was sealed with her full chest.   
In all honesty, Dick didn't really care about her overall attractiveness, or at least not like others did. Sure he thought she was beautiful, and he had told her that, though he hadn't expected her to kiss him for it when he said so (not that he complained). He was just being nice. And when they ran into each other later in the week, during one of the worst storms of the season he hadn't expected her to invite him in after walking her home. And he certainly didn't have any plan on spending the night, it was just raining too hard to go home.  
"I did buy them." He smirked up at her. He honestly wasn't sure what to call her. Girlfriend? Lover? A really good friend who he just so happened to have sex with? It probably didn't matter much as whatever their current arrangement was it seemed to work for them both. She fell gracefully in the grass next to him and in one fluid movement pulled a cigarette from the box.  
"Yes, but you bought them for me."  
A smirk played on his lips. "Got a light?"   
Less than a second later, her middle finger was alight with a blue flame. Chey lit hers first before lighting his, and they sat in silence. Neither thinking happy thoughts, both just glad to be sharing each other's company with someone who understood. They must understand each other, at least on a basic level. Otherwise why hang around with someone who knew so much, too much, about you?  
"Little orphan children need to stick together."  
That's what Chey had whispered into his ear, as he walked her home, after sharing how his parents fell to their deaths. Her breath was warm and sent shivers down his spine in the icy rain. When he looked into her eyes his breathing got shallow and mouth became dry. The rain was coming down hard at this point and they ran the rest of the way to her place, crazed laughter echoing thorough out when as they dashed through the larger puddles. She invited him in and for a while they just laid on the couch together. At some point, in between bad Sci-Fi Channel movies, she had mentioned her aunt wouldn't be home until morning. A few minutes after that her lips were on his. He'd never felt the way he did in that moment before. The only word he could use to describe the sensation was desperate. Desperate for her touch, for her taste, for little gasps and giggles. And even though the T.V. was still whining on and storm was damn near busting the windows, what they were feeling was all that mattered. Every unexpressed emotion, good and bad, suddenly had a release for both of them.  
The next morning both were covered with beautiful bruises, and Dick even had a few small burns.  
He thought about telling her about the training simulation gone wrong, telling her about how he led everyone to their deaths. She would probably understand, or she would be horrified and run off, never to speak to him again.  
He glanced over at her profile, wondering what she was thinking. He pondered if she would share, and if he would react the way she wanted him to. He honestly didn't know.   
He didn't notice but somewhere while they were each lost in thought they had found each other's hand. He decided not to say anything about the simulation. He would talk to Canary about it more during one those mandated therapy sessions Bat's had the whole team going to. Right now he was just fine with the silence. He was just fine with the burning in his throat and lungs, He was just fine with the heavy smoke mixing with the smell of Evergreens and creek water. He was fine not saying anything to Chey. Fine having her hold him together, the way she had when after a botched mission (that may have been his fault) and she stayed up all night just talking to him about nothing. And fine with him holding her together, like he had after that bastard slipped something into her drink and she damn near killed him because the drugs messed with her body, and Dick just sat there holding her for hours in silence. This was fine, and he was fine with this,  
Right?


	2. Chapter 2

CHAP TWO  
It was nearly three years since the cigarette meeting in the woods. Things had gotten pretty mixed for everyone after that. Tensions started to rise after New Year's that year and the team seemed like it was being held together by strings at this point. Along with the everyday stress of being the “Boy Wonder” and more recently trying to make it on his own as Nightwing, the advanced placement classes, having Bruce as a guardian, and Jason's recent death, it was no wonder Dick began to feel overwhelmed. Like he needed a release. Chey couldn’t exactly blame him for that, though she could certainly blame him for this.   
She hated hospitals, but not for the reasons someone would usually. It was because they reminded her of the last days of her parents' lives and that was not a reminder she needed. It was a memory that always left her feeling miserable and slightly guilty. Not that her parents' death had been her fault; they were killed for having powers and the only person she told would never have told that damn cult, or at least that's what she thought. And what was happening now, that wasn't her fault either. There was nothing she could have done to stop it and if there was, she would have.   
She would be sixteen in a month and had already lost almost everyone she loved in hospitals. She wasn't sure she could withstand losing someone else.  
Her heels clicked against the tiled floor as her eyes scanned for the nurse's station. A strange lump entered her throat as she approached and she did her best to swallow it to no avail.  
"Hi. I'm looking for a friend, he was brought in about an hour ago for knife wounds to the arm. His name is-"  
"Yeah! You can't go in right now though, but we set aside a waiting room at the end of the hall. He sure is a popular guy. Makes you wonder why he tried to kill him-"   
"He didn't!" Chey didn't mean it come out quite so… forceful, but this nurse didn't know a damn thing and had no right to assume that she did. Chey stomped off towards the waiting room. He didn't try to kill himself, he just dug the knife in a bit too deep this time. It was an accident, she’d bet her sketch book on it.   
She stopped in front of the door leading into the waiting room. His team would be in there. She never intended on actually meeting them, especially not like this. She gripped Dick's battered book closer to her chest, her heart thumping against the worn cover. It had belonged to his parents who received it on their wedding night. She swallowed again for about the fifth time, the lump in her throat remained. Her hand hovered over the handle for a second before she remembered she was supposed to be tough. If she was tough no one else could hurt her. And if he did die, she should move on and it wouldn't hurt.   
She pushed the door open while deciding to ignore the people in the room. Everyone inside stood up when she walked in. They must have thought she was a nurse or something at first. Not that she looked like one in her scarlet crop top and skinny jeans.  
"I'm sorry ma'am, but this is a private waiting room." A tall, dark skinned, young man spoke, he had a slight accent of origins Chey couldn’t quite pin down. At first she wasn't sure who he was, but the webbing in-between his fingers gave him away. He looked tired with his slumped shoulders and dark rings around his eyes, and though she would never admit it she felt sorry for him. Chey ignored him none the less and sat in a chair at the back of the room. She chose a corner seat to feel surrounded. Being surrounded always made her feel better when she was upset, like when she was little and her parents would hold her tightly until she fell asleep.  
"Did you hear him? He said this is a private room." A blonde girl piped up angrily. She was clearly upset and her gray eyes were puffy.  
"Yeah I heard him. I also know that I'm the only one in here having sex with our favorite cutter. So if you'll excuse me." A red haired girl muttered that he wasn't a cutter but besides that they all just stared at her speechless. He must not have ever mentioned her to them, not that she cared if his best friends knew about her.   
She opened the worn book, carefully, to one of the many marked pages. Dick marked his favorite spots in the book along with the introductions to his favorite characters. Chey wondered if these people knew she was holding his favorite book, not that her knowing made her special. She would never consider herself special. Though he certainly made her feel special, in some strange way. He had said once that she helped hold him together. She of all people held someone together. What a joke. He must have only said it to make her feel good. He was good at that; making her feel good (in more ways than one).  
"Are you okay?" A red haired boy asked tenderly. She hadn't noticed tears in her eyes. Which one is he? Roy? Or Wally? He didn't look like an addict.  
"It's a…uh…difficult part of the book." She dug the heel of her hand into her moist eyes.  
"I know the feeling." Was his whispered response. At closer inspection it looked like he was on the verge of sobbing himself. The blonde girl from before pulled him in close and Chey’s stomach twisted.   
The room fell back into silence. It was the book that made her tear up, not Dick. It had to be. She would only cry over people she loved. She cried when her parents suffered to death. She cried when her sister ran away and was never found. So why the Hell would she tear up over Dick? She didn't love him, not like that anyway. She gripped the book tightly, and silently blamed everyone in room for not noticing. Sure she knew, but there was nothing she could have done. Talking to him about it wouldn't have done her any good, she knew that. So she would kiss his scars and fresh cuts softly. And he would wince and try to pull his hands away but she would keep placing soft kisses up his arms. And that's how she helped, that was her method of asking, no begging, him to stop. And she thought it had been enough.  
Or at least enough to prevent this.  
"How did you people not know?" Her voice broke suddenly but she still managed a slight sneer as she looked at his "friends" through a tear filled gaze.  
"How did you not know?" A different redhead spit back. That one looked like an addict.  
"I did know!" She was standing now, and yelling with hot tears running down her face, everything that was happening seemed to be happening in misplaced fragments. Her body was reacting before her brain was.   
"Then why did you do nothing?!" The boy was standing now and yelling back. He had heavy bags under his eyes and was rail thin. The dark skinned boy moved to place a hand on the red head's shoulder, but he pulled away. For a split second the Atlantian looked sad before his face went stoic.   
"Well while you were off getting high, I did my best! But I'm not good with this kinda thing! I've never been able to help anyone!" She fell to her knees as an unwanted sob escaped her throat. Someone wrapped their arms around her but she blasted them away and ignored the sound of their body colliding with the wall. She didn't want to be comforted by the people who helped make the situation worse. Pulling herself into a ball under her chair she tried to let the tight space drown out her terror, and pain, and guilt.  
She would get through this,  
Right?


	3. Chapter Three

“Dick?”  
“Yeah, Chey?”  
“Before I get on that plane…I need to know something…”  
“Anything.”   
“…three years ago…did you try to kill yourself?”  
“…”  
“Wow. Okay… well… they’ll be boarding soon…”  
“Yeah… don’t want to be late.”  
“Goodbye Dick.”  
“Cheyenne?”  
“Yeah?”  
“I love you.”  
“Right.”


End file.
